


Before Dawn

by Ramasi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 03, implied dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramasi/pseuds/Ramasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows that Gwen is betraying her, and she feels no surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Attempt at making sense of season three Morgana. Contains mention of Gwen/Arthur, hint of Morgana/Morgause if you squint.

Gwen was kneeling behind her on the bed, closer than was practical for brushing her hair, legs pushing up against her sides. She sat still and erect and steeled herself against the temptation of letting herself soften. Gwen was a traitor. Tonight, she was going to free Leon and flee with him to Arthur.

Morgana was angry, but she was not surprised. She had given Gwen a second chance, but her maid had thrown it in her face and confirmed what she had already suspected: that she had no friends in Camelot, that even those who had once seemed the most loyal would turn on her if she tried to help those who had been persecuted by Uther – even if they figured among those numbers themselves, as Gwen did. They were ready to see victim after victim die, watching them go and pretend there was nothing they could do, that revolt was not possible; or worse, that revolt was wrong, that the lives lost while they waited for Uther's reign to end – as if Arthur wasn't his father's faithful servant, who would continue his work! – were nothing; they were ready to give their own life rather than raise their arm in defence, and to make the same decision for all those who would rather have lived. Morgause had reminded her how wrong this was, how complicit one became in every murder one didn't fight to prevent. In acting against her, in aiding Arthur and the knights, Gwen might as well have raised the sword to Morgana's own throat, thus threatening all those she was sworn to protect.

And she would die.

She would die, Morgana thought, while the brush caressed softly through her hair, like she should have died the first time Morgana had moved against her. She could see her as a queen: soft-hearted and indulgent of all of Arthur's sins as she had been even of Uther's, blinded by her own hallucinating elevation...

"My lady?" said Gwen, pausing in her motions.

She had stiffened as she had let her thoughts wander, and Gwen must have noticed.

"Are you finished?" she asked curtly.

In answer, Gwen let the brush sink. Morgana turned round to her, scrutinizing her in the candlelight; Gwen stared back bashfully, her gaze steady, if slightly afraid, and that alone would not be damning. She had seemed willing enough to fall back into her bed, and though she felt none of the old passion, none of the wonderful safety in her arms, none of the lasting newness of desire, she had given in to the temptation of having this back; she had to suppose now that Gwen had given in only out of fear, but she had found that she no longer cared.

There had been a time when Gwen had been the one person to whom she would give up herself completely, holding nothing back, giving and taking everything – at least so she had thought. But if Gwen was so ready to forget her over a year of absence, if Gwen was willing to betray her for Arthur, then she had never loved her like she had once believed her to. Then the trust between them had always been an illusion, their sex nothing but a communion of bodies, and this much she had taken back. If she had once thought otherwise, that was because she had been foolish, because she had not yet learned what true unconditional love was thanks to Morgause.

But she did not lean to kiss her now, though their faces were only inches apart. She had found that the certain knowledge of her betrayal had killed her desire; she knew now that it had been kindled by a childish wish to reclaim something from her past, pretend she had ever been safe and loved, and she was beyond that: she had power, now, and that would ensure her safety in the future.

She was glad, almost, that Gwen had made false promises about her turning round Leon. There would be more deaths among the city folk, if still the knights refused to hail her; last time, giving the order with that harsh gesture her father had always used, she had felt vindicated.

She had loved these people, once. She had provided them with food, cared for them as they lay wounded, pleaded and argued for them before Uther, in spite of his vengeances. And what had they done? They had stood aside, wide-eyed and hungry for pain, as men, women, children were murdered in front of their eyes, as they would have stood aside when it was her turn; they had brought Aredian upon her, with their fearful tales of innocent magic; they had raised their meagre arms in defence of the city when her and Morgause's army had come upon them, risking their life to keep a mass-murdering tyrant on the throne. They deserved all the grief she could bring them.

But she would be merciful. No more needed to die than was necessary to solidify her power. And once the knights of Camelot had accepted her as their queen, the populace would follow. They would have no choice: tomorrow, Arthur would be dead, and then she would be Uther's sole heir.

And things would change. She needed the knights of Camelot to legitimate her; she did not need them as soldiers. Morgause's immortal army and their magic would protect their Camelot flawlessly; never again would they have to fear an outside menace. Morgause would rule over Cenred's kingdom, and together they would be stronger than any other power in Albion. The druids and the remaining priestesses of the old religion would return from hiding; magic would sweep over their kingdom, once again freely used to heal the sick, to repair damaged crops, to bless their fields, to unmask cheats and liars. Perhaps they would go on to conquer Albion and impose their rule on it.

Uther's time was truly at an end.

"Morgana," Gwen said questioningly, and Morgana became aware that she must have been staring at her.

"Uther killed his queen, you know," she said, watching Gwen's face carefully for a reaction. "With magic." Because he desperately wanted a son, enough to kill for it, when he already had a daughter.

Gwen's face remained carefully neutral; she was too intent on keeping up her mask to let any emotion slip through, even when not doing so might seem suspicious; Morgana felt anger at being thought so easy to fool.

"Then he is a hypocrite," Gwen eventually said.

Morgana narrowed her eyes at her.

"Arthur knows."

That did draw a reaction from her, if a mere tensing of her shoulders; there was a silence, before Gwen asked:

"How do _you_ know?"

She didn't believe her, Morgana thought, furious. She would rather cling to her romantic view of the prince than admit the truth of what she was saying, that Arthur was willing to close his eyes even on his own mother's murder and all of his father subsequent crimes. There had been a time when Morgana had thought differently of him, because of his small transgressions; but she knew better now; Arthur would never truly rebel against his father and his rules, not even after Uther's death.

"Morgause," she said, trying to hold back her fury.

She could see her maid relax, as if the name alone was confirmation, to her, that what she said couldn't be the truth, as if Morgause wasn't the truest, most honest person!... Morgana had to keep herself from slapping her; no point, now, in letting her guess that she knew of her treachery.

"That will be all," she snapped, and turned her back to her.

She could feel the bed shift behind her as Gwen slowly got up.

"Do you want me to –"

"Leave it," Morgana said, without giving her time to finish. Suddenly, she couldn't bear her presence anymore; she had been foolish to even give her a chance of redeeming herself in the first place. She would have her killed without having her brought before her, without seeing her one last time.

"As you wish, my lady." Something in Gwen's soft voice made her shiver.

She turned towards her, after all, watched her leave the room without looking back, and let out a deep breath she hadn't known she was holding. That would be the last time she had to be afraid of letting something slip in front of others, and suddenly she hated Gwen more than Uther for having occasioned it.

But she was gone. It was over. Tomorrow, Morgause would kill her, together with Arthur and Merlin and Leon, all these dark shadows from her past, and they could move forward; the future that lay ahead was bright and hopeful.


End file.
